Twist of Fates
by Suilaid
Summary: With a country in political turmoil, one woman sets out to change the face of discrimination and wipe out all who oppose her, taking Skyrim to greater heights than anyone thought possible.


The Welcome Wagon

* * *

_Skyrim. I told myself I'd never come back, and here I am. Just one step, and I'll be back in the country where I was ruined. Why am I doing this? Oh right, I miss my parents. I'm being so foolish..._

Hetta glanced around, turning her head back to look at the forest that belonged to Cyrodiil, and then forward again to the forest that belonged to Skyrim. A thin river was all that marked the border; there were no signs or outposts, as there had been no need for something like that. Hetta sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, she was still unsure of whether or not she really wanted to go back to her birthplace. Distant memories and dark feelings rose up in her mind, and the woman shook her head slightly, before forcing her right foot forward.

_There, now you've done it. Left foot, hello Skyrim. _

She waded across the shallow water, unperturbed that it soaked through her pants and leather boots from the knees down, and was just about to step onto the rocky banks when four figures burst out from the trees with an explosion of voices. Three men and a woman all similarly dressed in blue colored armor bolted towards the river and a startled Hetta reflectively backed up into the water, only to be knocked onto her rump by one of the fleeing men.

"Oomph!"

The man landed with a splash and became entangled with the traveling elf. Hetta pushed his chest back with a frustrated growl and struggled to get away. The closeness of the Nord on top of her flared up discomfort, but before either of them could recover themselves, a voice called out,

"Stop! By order of the Imperial Legion, you are under arrest!"

"Wait, what-"

Two pairs of hands gripped Hetta's arms, the weight of the Nord was lifted off her, and she was roughly pulled to her feet.

"Hey now!" Hetta shouted, noting that the men who arrested her bore Imperial armor. She peered curiously at the blue-clad soldiers, wondering what their association was. "I have absolutely nothing to do with this. I just stepped over from Cyrodiil!"

"Well it didn't look that way, prisoner." A wrinkly-faced Legionnaire turned to regard Hetta, his eyes narrowing at her from beneath his steel helmet.

"Like Oblivion it didn't," I'm not wearing the same armor as them, that man ran right into me!"

"Sure," he replied, and turned away from her.

_Bastard!_

Hetta hissed as her hands were bound and quickly conjured up flames, burning the rope binds, and then aimed the spell at the legionnaire who had so rudely shrugged her off.

"Mage!" One of the soldiers cried, and she was quickly tackled to the ground before she could defend herself. A moment later, the clink of iron shackles was heard as one soldier quickly brought her arms behind her back and clamped the irons around Hetta's wrists. She strained against the cool metal, her face pressed into the soft earth, but it was useless; and she did not put up a fight when she was lifted up once more.

Hetta realized it was only her and the Nord who had knocked her over that were being taken. Across the river, the man's companions had long since disappeared into the forest and out of sight.

_Such nice friends of his_, Hetta thought with a snort.

As the pair were loaded into a wagon Hetta's mind raced.

_How in Oblivion did this happen?_ She asked herself over and over_. I must have the shittiest luck, barely a minute in Skyrim and I've been arrested for no reason_...

Her thoughts trailed off as she felt eyes on her and her head snapped up to meet the watching Nord, who turned away in embarrassment. He opened his mouth to say something and hesitated.

"I'm sorry," he whispered quickly, and Hetta scoffed, looking away from him. She glanced back ever so slightly, and had to admit he looked like he felt pretty bad.

Hetta sighed, her shoulder's sagging as she bowed her head. Her body jerked and jumped in correspondence to the movements of the wagon, as it started down a thin trail winding around the trees.

_Welcome home, idiot._

* * *

It was mid-day when the wagons rolled to a stop, and Hetta finally lifted her head up to look at her surroundings. Her arms ached from being held behind her back for so many hours, and her rump was sore from sitting on the hard wooden surface of the wagon. She noticed more wagons had arrived, and figured they must have met up with another group. Voices called out, and Hetta was ordered to climb down from the wagon. She listened to the conversations she could hear, picking up snippets of sentences, and tried to piece together what was going on.

"…Stormcloaks," one man said, and Hetta's eyebrows rose up. She had no idea what was going on, and wanted answers.

"Excuse me," Hetta shouted, and the soldiers nearby looked over at her, "I would like to speak with whoever is in charge."

"That would be me, Elf. General Tullius."

A middle-aged man stepped forward dressed in flashy Imperial armor.

"My name is _Hetta,_" she replied coldly, turning to face the general. "You have wrongly imprisoned me, and I demand a fair trial."

"Do you?" Tullius asked, and stepped towards her.

"I have no idea who this man is," she continued, nodding her head toward the Nord. "I haven't been in Skyrim for nearly six years."

"Well you chose the wrong time to come to Skyrim, Elf."

Hetta stepped closer to the general, fixing her auburn colored eyes on the Imperial.

"I am a high ranking battle mage at the Arcane University, General Tullius, and I have endured this long enough. If you do not believe that I am innocent then I will resort to violence."

Hetta wasn't lying, she was indeed a battle mage, but she knew she couldn't take all of the soldiers on her own, with her hands shackled behind her back. She could only try, but Tullius didn't need to know that.

"You drive a hard bargain Elf, but that's not going to work." He quickly brought his arm up and knocked her over the head. Her vision swam, and everything went black.

It was after nightfall when Hetta came to, her head pounding. She groaned, rolling over onto her back, and awkwardly pushed herself into a sitting position. Her hands were still bound, although her arms were in front of her now. Hetta blinked against the blinding lamplight, and slowly began to realize her surroundings were the insides of a tent.

"You're awake."

Hetta turned too quickly, and had to bow her head to stop the room from spinning. She felt a cool hand touch her forehead, and Hetta stiffened, pushing her self back despite the nausea it brought.

"Woah, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

She peered up at the soldier, a legionnaire with hair the color of rust, and noted he was a Nord.

"My name is Hadvar, I know you are Hetta."

The woman nodded, her eyes narrowed while she inspected him, and Hadvar shifted into a kneeling position, the plates of his armor clinking softly from the movement.

"I believe you, by the way. I don't think you're a rebel."

"I don't understand," Hetta replied quickly, "I don't even know what these Stormcloaks are!"

"I know," He replied soothingly, "And that's why I convinced General Tullius to investigate you. I heard your conversation with him; you said you are a battle mage. Is this true?"

"Yes! Of course it is. I just left the University to return home. What a stupid idea it was." She grumbled, scowling at the pallet she currently occupied.

"Okay well this…"

"Hadvar," Tullius greeted, and the solider stood up.

"General," he replied stiffly, his body straightening as he greeted his commander.

"How is your head, Hetta?" Tullius glanced down at Hetta, who glared at him and touched the bump that had formed just above her temple.

"It would feel better if it hadn't happened in the first place. It was unnecessary general."

"You threatened to be violent, it was completely necessary."

"Why am I in this tent?"

"You'll be happy to know that we have taken your innocence into consideration."

"You did?" Hetta asked in disbelief.

"You have Hadvar to thank." He nodded at the Nord, who looked down at the floor. "He pointed out that you had in fact collided with the male rebel, and also that you do not bear the armor that marked the rest as Stormcloaks, which was the party we were after."

"Wonderful," Hetta replied quietly, and she rubbed her aching head, if only she could have a potion to help ease the soreness.

"There is a messenger on his way to the Arcane University this very minute. When he gets there, he will ask about a Bosmer named Hetta. If they can prove that you are indeed a member of the University and left to travel to Skyrim, the counts against you will be dropped."

Hetta sighed, feeling considerably better. "Thank you," she whispered.

Tullius nodded, and then left the tent. Hadvar turned towards the woman with a smile, and Hetta couldn't help but return it, she felt the stirrings of hope.

"I am truly in debt to you, Hadvar. What would happen if I was not innocent?"

"You would be executed."

Hetta's eyes widened, and she sucked in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

"Wow that seems a little…extreme. Then you will have saved my life."

"It's nothing," Hadvar mumbled, and then he took his leave; telling her that some food would be brought over to her shortly.

"You can sleep in here tonight. You'll continue to travel with us, and the messenger should be back in a couple days."

"All right." Hetta lay back down and closed her eyes, and as Hadvar had mentioned, a soldier bearing a plate of food arrived a couple minutes later.

_This turned out better than I expected,_ she thought to herself as she wolfed down morsels of her dinner. Her hands were still in shackles, she knew they wouldn't let her walk around so freely yet, but she was grateful they had allowed her to have her arms in front so sleeping would not be as uncomfortable. Once she had finished eating, Hetta slipped under the covers of her pallet, and after some time fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

Four days passed by in a blur. Hetta slept for the greater part of the trip after she got bored of staring at tree after tree. On the fourth day a man on horseback came galloping on a black horse to the group from the rear and reached the general, who signaled for everyone to stop and make camp. A few more wagons had joined up with them a couple days ago, and more rebel prisoners had been added to the wagon she and the Nord occupied.

The night before one woman had stirred a bit of trouble, a Nord from her appearance. Hetta had found her to be quite interesting, as she had been sitting nearby and got a good long look at her.

The woman had hair as white as snow that was caked with bits of dirt, as well as two braids that were becoming undone. However, that was not the most interesting part about her features, it was her eyes. Her eyes were shockingly bright and so light blue they were nearly white.

She glared at the Imperial soldiers with such intensity that it unsettled the men who were caught in the crossfire. She had refused to drink the water that had been offered to her and had instead kicked the cup right out of the soldier's hand, earning a sharp slap to the face. The whole camp had gone silent, and the woman hadn't even reached up to touch her reddening cheek, but stared directly at the man with an anger that startled even Hetta, until Tullius had called out to the Imperial.

_What a fiery woman she is_, Hetta thought with a small smile. _She must be a great warrior. _

As they made camp for the night, Hetta paced in the tent that had become her place for sleeping, anxiously awaiting the news from the messenger. Hetta's stomach did back flips while she nervously chewed her lip.

Finally Tullius entered, as well as Hadvar, and Hetta turned to regard the two men.

"Well?" She asked impatiently, and Hadvar smiled at her.

"I owe you an apology," Tullius began, and she could tell it was hard for him to admit he was wrong. Hetta smiled at his discomfort. "It seems that your story checks out, and you are indeed a well known battle mage at the University. All charges have been dropped."

"Excellent." Hetta held out her hands, and Hadvar stepped forward, unlocking the irons with a small key.

"I'm sure you are eager to be on your way," Tullius continued, "But it seems your belongings were forgotten back at the border. We would offer that you ride with the station heading to the capital, so that you may be given a small compensation for the trouble we have put you through."

Hetta considered his offer. It was true, she had nothing left that was hers save for the rags on her back, and she would be safe traveling with a group of soldiers. She realized with a small jolt that her few possessions were forever gone, and her eyebrows furrowed together. However, once she reached Solitude she could re-supply, and who could turn down compensation?

"I accept," Hetta replied, "And now that I'm a free woman I would like to request a bath. I cannot go another hour smelling like I do."

Hadvar laughed and Tullius's mouth twitched, though he did not smile.

"Of course, it's the least we can do." He nodded to Hadvar, and the pair left the tent.

Hetta jumped in the air and spun around with a laugh.

I did it! I was assertive_ and made myself heard. I knew my big mouth would save me someday! _

A tub was provided for her, and water was heated for her bath. She wondered curiously how it was that they had a tub, and when she inquired about it to Hadvar, he wryly replied that Tullius didn't like to rough it more than he had to, and Hetta had laughed.

A small mirror had been provided as well, and Hetta eyed it with mixed feelings.

_I'm not so sure I want to know what I look like right now. _

But curiosity won over in the end, and Hetta picked up the small mirror to peer at herself.

The face that greeted her was tired and worn out. She ran her hand over her head; her hair had been shaven off many years ago. Since the first time she had shaved Hetta had never grew it out again. She scratched her pointed ear and prodded her lips, her petite and narrow nose, and rubbed at the dirt that was scattered across her well-defined cheekbones and prominent chin. Her dark skin was even darker from the layers of grime that clung to her. Her slanted eyes narrowed, and then Hetta placed the mirror down with a huff.

_I look like crap._

She stripped her filthy clothes off and sank into the hot water with a happy sigh, glad to have the opportunity to get clean. She idly ran her fingers through the steam and rippled the water with her finger tips, feeling her muscles and joints relax after days of traveling on a rickety and stiff wagon. Then she felt a small pang of guilt and sadness when the Stormcloak prisoners rose in her thoughts, but she quickly pushed that down. Most of the prisoners were male Nords.

Once she had finished bathing, Hetta changed into a clean set of Imperial light armor before Hadvar entered the tent.

"Would you like to join me for dinner? There's a bonfire outside."

"Sure," Hetta replied hesitantly, and fell into step beside the soldier.

_He was a kind enough Nord_, she thought, _a trait that is_ _very rare for his race._ _It doesn't mean I trust him._

She still felt the need to be protective of herself when she was around him, although it wasn't as strong a feeling it was earlier. She found herself laughing at his poor attempts at jokes, as they sat with the other men and a few female guards eating and drinking.

"The Legion armor suits you," Hadvar complimented, gesturing to the elf.

"Does it? Hmm," She replied sleepily.

"Yes. You should join the Legion, they could use a gifted mage like yourself."

"Could they?" Hetta mumbled.

Hadvar laughed, and took a drink of his ale.

"They could." He replied confidently. "You are a good speaker, persuasive, logical. I knew you spoke the truth. The Legion could really gain something from having you in their ranks."

Hetta thought it over, but decided now was not the time to make decisions. She had no idea what the politics were like in Skyrim, and it would be wise to learn about such things first instead of blindly choosing a side. For now all she wanted to do was see her family.

_What a disastrous __welcome home, _she told herself. _But I'm __not a criminal anymore, and soon I'll be able to see my parents_

With that thought in mind, Hetta said goodnight to Hadvar, returned to her tent and lay down on her pallet and drifted off into her first deep sleep in four days.


End file.
